


Five Times Neal Sent Peter a Birthday Card (and One Time He Congratulated Him in Person)

by afterthenovels



Category: White Collar
Genre: 5 Times, Gen, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:45:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterthenovels/pseuds/afterthenovels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The name says it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Neal Sent Peter a Birthday Card (and One Time He Congratulated Him in Person)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [Inez](http://hearyoulaugh.tumblr.com), who prompted Neal sending Peter birthday cards from prison, and then it evolved into this because I’m a wordy writer.

_Did you get the birthday cards?  
Nice touch._

 

**1.**

Peter Burke is having a very bad day. He doesn't have bad days very often, but when he does it's always one of those days when everything goes to hell.

Usually Peter enjoys chasing James Bonds, or Neal Caffrey, as they have finally learned. It's exhilarating to watch the kid – because he really is a kid, and Peter sometimes feels almost sorry for him, being so young and already in too deep – pull heists that seem impossible, see him avoid the law enforcement every single time. They have no solid proof, only crimes that Bonds could have done and circumstantial evidence, but it all just makes Peter work harder. He is not going to give up. Not when other agents think he's chasing a ghost and not even when Elizabeth has to remind him about their lunch dates because he's so caught up in this investigation.

But today he hates James Bonds. Or himself, he doesn’t really know. He was so sure that they were close, that they had finally found out where Bonds was hiding with his forgeries. It was a solid lead from one of their more reliable informants, and it fit the bill – they even had security camera footage of someone looking a hell of a lot like Bonds entering the building several times. So they did what they always did: they staked out the building, and then finally, after five excruciatingly boring days, they saw a man in dark clothes enter the building with heavy bags.

They moved in only to find out that the building was empty and that the man was just a delivery guy who had been asked to deliver food to this address by an anonymous client. The bags had donuts in them. Boxes and boxes of freshly-baked donuts.

Peter has to admit that James Bonds outsmarted them again and that it was all pretty neat, but that doesn't mean that he is exactly bouncing with joy right now. Days of wasted time, of wasted resources, of wasted manpower, of wasted everything. And on top of everything it’s Peter's birthday today.

There's a card with a picture of a cupcake waiting for him on his desk when he finally makes it to his office after getting an earful from Hughes. He picks the card up and groans at the cheery image. It's probably from someone at the office; someone who doesn’t know about today's disaster yet and thinks that a simple card would make him happy. It usually would, but not right now.

Peter opens the card anyways and frowns at the unfamiliar handwriting.

_Happy birthday, Peter!_

_Tell your wife I'm sorry for making you grumpy on your big day._

_Hopefully the donuts were tasty!_

_xoxo  
Guess who! :)_

He has the sudden urge to laugh, or maybe to throw the card away with an annoyed grunt. But even when he's having a bad day Peter Burke is a professional, so he takes a deep breath and holds the card carefully in his hand all the way to evidence. He knows that there won't be any fingerprints on it, no traces of the sender, but someday James Bonds will screw up, and Peter will be waiting for him with a smile and a pair of handcuffs.

Sometimes he thinks he enjoys this chase a bit too much. Sometimes he thinks he's not the only one enjoying it.

 

**2.**

It's not unusual for Peter to get quite many birthday cards. He has few close friends and most of them are from the FBI – a thought that could be depressing but he honestly doesn't mind it. He does have a lot of acquaintances though, those people that Elizabeth forces him to send a Christmas card every year, neighbours and colleagues and old college buddies.

So when he goes to the office on his birthday that year he isn't really surprised to find a simple card with a picture of balloons on it among his mail. He just takes a glance at it and puts it in his coat pocket to read it later. He has cases to work on. Not as exciting as Neal Caffrey, who is currently waiting for his final sentence in prison, but cases nevertheless.

That same evening, after a four-hour stakeout, Elizabeth is going through the coats of his pockets ("honey, this coat needs to washed, deviled ham is not a good look on you") when she pulls the card out and stops.

"Honey," she calls and waves the card in the air.

"Oh, I completely forgot about that," Peter swears and takes the card. It has gotten a little beaten-up during the day, but the balloons are still bright and shiny.

"Well, it's a good thing I check your pockets," Elizabeth says and kisses the top of his head before leaving him at the kitchen table.

Peter turns the card over in his hands. He spent his whole birthday working but that's nothing new. They solved a mortgage fraud case today, he had a great dinner with his wife just a few hours ago and there's a cold beer in front of him. As far as birthdays go, Peter would say that this was a pretty good one. He's not a kid anymore, hasn't been for decades. It's not like he expects surprise parties or silly hats anymore.

So he opens the card with a smile, expecting to see a generic congratulation and the signature of someone he meets every once in a while. Instead there's a doodle of a familiar lollipop and the words:

_Happy birthday, Peter!_

_Unfortunately we don't have suckers here in prison, so you'll have to settle for this drawing._

_xoxo  
Neal_

He's shaking his head and laughing quietly when Elizabeth comes back to the dining room.

"What's so funny?" she asks, staring at him amusedly.

"Caffrey," Peter answers, and really, that's all he needs to say.

 

**3.**

There's another card next year, this time to his home address. This card has a drawing of a smiling dog that looks disconcertingly like Satchmo, and it takes a few moments for Peter to notice the initials _N.C._ tucked into the corner of the picture.

He's holding an actual Neal Caffrey original in his hands, and a part of him wonders if he should compare this drawing to the forgeries Caffrey has allegedly done. Then again, Caffrey is already in jail and he's not so stupid that he would send anything possibly incriminating to Peter. Might as well save the trouble.

"Should I be worried that my husband gets a birthday card from a convict every year?"

Peter looks up from the card and smiles at Elizabeth. "I don't know. Should you?"

El moves behind him to look at the card and does a double take. "Wow, that's a really nice drawing. Did he do it himself?"

"Yeah, I think so. You are looking at an original Neal Caffrey."

Elizabeth wraps her arms around his neck and rests her chin on his shoulder. "What does it say this time?"

Peter opens the card and raises his hands a little so that it’s easier for El to read the words.

_Happy birthday, Peter!_

_Give my love to your wife and dog! They probably deserve it after putting up with you for so many years._

_xoxo  
Neal_

El laughs and kisses his cheek. "You put him behind bars and he still keeps teasing you."

"I prefer this teasing to him stealing art and making me chase him across the country," Peter quips and leans against Elizabeth’s chest.

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Because at least now I get to forget everything about Neal Caffrey when I come home to my beautiful wife," Peter says and lets the card drop back to the table so that he can reach up and stroke El's hair.

"Is that so?" El murmurs to his ear. "So let me get this straight: when you were chasing him you didn't forget everything about him when you came home to me every night? Oh, he is right, I really do have to put up with you."

Peter can hear the laughter in her voice and grins. "Yes you do."

 

**4.**

Peter has a big birthday that year, and the White Collar Unit throws a party for him at the office. There's awkward but heart-warming singing, a small cake and even a few bottles of some really expensive champagne they confiscated during an arrest a few weeks ago (all approved by Hughes, of course).

They drink the champagne from paper cups. Peter shares a laugh with the Harvard crew and gets a hug from Diana and a clap on the back from Jones. He knows that for some units work is the only thing they have in common, but he has a feeling their team – his team – is slowly becoming a small family. There's still something missing, something to ease the small tension between them, but Peter is sure that they will get there. Someday.

His phone rings when he's laughing at a story Jones told (that man is scarily good at impressions), and he excuses himself when he sees El's name on the screen.

"Hi hon," he answers with a smile.

"Hi honey…"

There's something in Elizabeth's voice that instantly makes alarm bells ring inside Peter's head. "Is something wrong?" he asks, already placing his paper cup on the table.

"Not necessarily. It's just that there was this huge gift basket waiting on our front porch when I got home and it's addressed to you and… Well."

"What?" Peter asks and frowns. He hasn't gotten any gift baskets before.

"The card says that it's from a 'Mr. N. Halden', and that name sounds annoyingly familiar. I can't place it, but I know I've heard you mention it."

Peter huffs. "Caffrey." The name is almost like a curse these days.

"Caffrey? What about him, honey?" Elizabeth sounds puzzled.

"Halden is Caffrey's alias." He drags his hand down his face and sighs. "Look, El, can you see what's in the gift basket?"

"Oh, sure." There's a moment's pause. Peter can hear some faint rustling, and then Elizabeth's voice is back. "Oh honey… I can't… How can he get things like this for you? He's in prison! There's champagne and caviar and Belgian chocolate, and – wow, that coffee blend must have cost a fortune!"

Peter takes a deep breath. "So there are no explosives or anything like that?" He knows there aren't; Caffrey has never been violent and he has no reason to hurt Peter or Elizabeth.

"No!" Elizabeth exclaims. "Please don't tell me this is evidence. I can't bear the thought of this basket being locked down in some stuffy FBI storage room."

Peter shakes his head in exasperation. "He's already in prison. I don't think we need to use a gift basket as evidence to nail him anymore."

When he comes home that night Elizabeth kisses him like she always does, but this time there's something more in the curve of her smile against his lips, something proud and amused and silly, and Peter thinks once again how much he loves her. She hands him the card she found in the gift basket and gives another soft peck on his lips.

Peter looks at the card and snorts. It has a pencil sketch of him looking old and grey-haired, waving his FBI badge with thin and shaking hands. It seems scarily accurate, and Peter has to wonder if Caffrey has a secret time machine hidden somewhere in his prison cell. Under the sketch, in Caffrey's already familiar hand-writing, are written the words:

_Happy birthday, Peter!_

_Don't worry, I won't tell your real age to anyone. ;)_

_xoxo  
Neal_

 

**5.**

Peter is already expecting a card from Neal this year. It's a weird tradition and Peter has no idea why he keeps getting the cards or why they make him smile – or even why Caffrey has turned into Neal in his head – but he is also strangely fond of it all. It reminds him of the chase, of the thrill that catching Neal Caffrey used to put in his blood.

But there is no card waiting for him on his desk that day. No card waiting for him when he gets home either. No gift baskets, no sketches or cheery cards. Peter wonders what could make Neal break his habit, and even Elizabeth seems confused, asking him if the card could have gotten lost in the office mail.

A few days later the card finally appears on Peter's desk. He breathes a sigh of relief (not that he was worried about Neal Caffrey, not at all) but furrows his brows when he sees that the card has a black and white photograph of vintage cars on it instead of the drawings and colourful images he has gotten used to. The words on the other side of the card are even more abnormal.

_Happy belated birthday._

_Neal_

That's all. No sketches, no jokes, no smiley faces, no _xoxo_ 's. The card is uncharacteristically simple and bare. Peter has the sudden urge to call the prison and make sure that Neal hasn't escaped or gotten injured, but he did promise himself that he would give up his obsession after he caught Neal. Of course he misses the chase – he misses the case that was bigger and more exciting than anything he has ever worked with and he misses how he never quite knew what Neal was going to do next. But it's all in the past now. A few months ago he realised that he had started to divide his life into two categories, before and after Neal Caffrey, and that's a bit too much even for a workaholic like him.

So he just gives a small smile to the card – maybe Neal is bored of him, or maybe the prison is finally getting to him – and puts it in his desk drawer. In a few months Neal Caffrey will be a free man, and perhaps this is his way of saying goodbye to Peter and to his life before prison. Peter keeps hoping that he managed to help Neal somehow in putting him behind bars. He knows that Neal could do something good if he put his mind to it and ignored the cons and heists. Getting caught could have been the turning point Neal needed.

A month later, when the evidence they were hoping to get against the Dutchman has blown up against his face and Peter is practically barking at his team, Diana walks up to him and says, "Neal Caffrey escaped."

And suddenly it all falls in place.

 

**+1.**

"So, Peter – any special plans for today?"

Neal is leaning back in his chair, tossing the always present ball of rubber bands between his hands without even looking at it. It's strange how at home Neal seems to be in the office, like he was made to sit behind his desk, tell stories about his alleged crimes to the probies and bounce off ideas with Peter. But then again, Neal Caffrey is at home everywhere, Peter reminds himself.

"Just dinner with El, maybe catch a game with a cold beer and then have a good night's sleep," he answers, pulling on his trench coat and making sure that his phone is still in his pocket.

Neal looks affronted. "That's your plan for your birthday? Peter, I'm disappointed in you."

"It's a good plan. It doesn't involve you." Peter smirks.

"I told you, I could have thrown you a big party. It would have been _great_."

Peter rolls his eyes, a habit he never had before he met Neal. "Oh, your parties would involve supermodels and expensive drinks. I'm sure Jones would love that –"

"I would," Jones comments as he walks past them and nods them goodnight.

"– but I'm happier with a quiet evening at home," Peter finishes.

"Suit yourself." Neal puts the rubber ball down with a shrug and starts organising the papers on his desk. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"See you tomorrow, Neal. Don't do anything stupid."

Peter makes it all the way to his car when he notices that his car keys are not in his pocket. He searches frantically for a moment, until he deduces that he must have left them in his office and turns back. Neal has already left, his papers in a neat stack in front of the computer, and there are only a few agents still writing their reports at their desks. Peter jogs up to his office and finds his keys lying on the floor behind his chair. That's odd. They must have fallen out of his pocket when he was sitting.

The ride home is uneventful, and when he finally opens the door to his house he expects to be met with the gentle scent of whatever El has made them for dinner. Instead the house is full of voices and bright lights, the dining room table is groaning with food that makes Peter's mouth water, and Neal is walking towards him with a wide smile on his face. Peter looks around. Diana and Jones are there, as well as Blake and some of the other probies he knows a little better. June and Sara are chatting in the corner, and Peter thinks he can even spy Mozzie near the kitchen inspecting the wine selection and explaining something to El.

"W-what's this?" he manages to blurt out when Neal stops in front of him.

Neal looks around. "This? I told you I could throw you a party. Supermodels and expensive drinks are not the only thing I know about parties, Peter."

"But how?"

"Elizabeth helped me. Oh, by the way, did you find your car keys?"

Neal's grin is the smile he always has on his face when he has outsmarted or conned someone, and Peter has to shake his head. He should have known it.

They stand there awkwardly for a moment, and then Neal suddenly flings his arms around Peter's shoulders, giving him a warm hug. "Happy birthday," he says into Peter's ear, and Peter reaches up to squeeze Neal’s shoulders briefly.

Some time later, after tasting some of the delicious food and exchanging a few words with everyone invited, Peter finds himself sitting in his backyard with Neal. He has a beer and Neal has a glass of wine, the silence between them is companionable and the evening is still warm. They can hear Mozzie explaining something inside the house, and suddenly everyone bursts out laughing. Peter smiles. Maybe he isn't a kid anymore and maybe he doesn't expect surprise parties or funny hats, but this? This is still pretty nice.

He looks at Neal who seems to be lost in his thoughts with a small smile on his face. If someone had told Peter five years ago that he would be spending his birthday with James Bonds, not chasing him but in a party organised by him, Peter would have laughed his head off. But here they are, after all those years.

"Why did you send me all those birthday cards?" Peter asks suddenly.

Neal blinks. "Everyone deserves a card on their birthday," he says with a shrug.

Peter looks at him, at the way Neal is sitting and how he's speaking like his answer is the most obvious thing in the world. Peter knows that Neal is being at least partially honest. Neal likes people; it's one of the first things Peter noticed about him. He is always polite and helpful, he never uses violence, and he only stole from people or museums that could afford it. If there ever was a gentleman thief, Neal is definitely it. Sending colourful birthday cards to the FBI agent who caught you practically screams gentleman.

But Peter knows there's something else behind Neal's answer as well. He spent three years of his life chasing Neal and has now spent a long enough time working with him. He knows him, maybe better than anyone else. Neal Caffrey is a mystery and sometimes Peter thinks that not even Neal knows himself completely. Peter sees Neal's potential, has always seen it, even when he was a kid forging bonds and stealing priceless artefacts. Neal could do so much, but somehow he is here, solving crimes with Peter and his team. Even if he has that anklet chafing his leg, he seems to be having fun.

Neal sips his wine. "Besides, you did catch me."

"Twice," Peter says automatically.

Neal ignores him. "So you earned my professional respect. I figured the least I could do was send you a birthday card."

Peter stops and stares at Neal surprisedly. He wouldn't say that the pieces of Neal Caffrey are fitting together perfectly, not yet. Maybe they will never fit. Neal is a complex puzzle, one that Peter has spent years and years trying to solve, and most of the time he still has no idea what goes on inside his head. But he does have a pretty good idea. He knows what Neal's voice sounds like when he is trying to downplay something.

"When's your birthday, then?" Peter asks and takes a swig of his beer. He can hear El laughing inside the house and it all feels so absurdly domestic that he could laugh as well.

Neal turns to look at him. "Oh no. No. Don't even think about throwing me a party. With your so-called skills the party would involve cheap beer and watching the game. Not my idea of fun, okay. No."

Peter smiles. "I was just curious." There's a day marked down in Neal’s official papers, but Peter has no idea whether it's the correct date or not.

"Please don't. I don't want a drunken frat party for my birthday," Neal pleads, but his eyes are laughing.

Peter snorts. Neal smiles and then extends his arm to clink his glass against Peter's bottle.

"Happy birthday, Peter." 

Peter has already seen those words written in five different cards but somehow hearing them in person is even better.


End file.
